


natsukashii

by baeksthighs



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Character Death, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 22:33:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7482495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeksthighs/pseuds/baeksthighs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both of them are like a breath of fresh air filling Sehun’s lungs, and each of them leaves a different kind of taste on Sehun’s tongue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	natsukashii

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://dawnslu.livejournal.com/8520.html). 
> 
> This is purely word vomit so I must warn you for poor plot development and my writing in general. Inspiration found [here](http://other-wordly.tumblr.com/post/80598314616/pronunciation-nats-ka-she-nahtzkah-shee).

Natsukashii: (adj.) _of some small thing that brings you suddenly, joyously back to fond memories, not with a wistful longing for what’s past, but with an appreciation of the good times._  


 

Sehun watches as the horizon sinks lower on the water, tones of pinks and oranges blurring against the water as the sun dips lower and night chases daylight away. The ocean breeze is salty and damp on his skin, and his hair dried out and a bit frayed as the wind ruffles it and tickles against his forehead. It’s calm tonight, quiet and a tad lonely, and these are the nights that Sehun remembers hushed whispers into tufts of soft, chocolate brown hair, crinkled eyes, flushed cheeks, and a warm shoulder to rest his head on. 

Had this been six months ago, he would probably be pleasantly buzzed and his head would be pillowed by a pair of thighs and there would be nimble fingers threading through his hair. He would be giggling and there would be stolen glances and shy kisses that would lead to heavy breathing and mumbled words before it was decided that they go somewhere more private. 

Six months. _Six months_. A half of a year already and Sehun still hasn’t found a way to move forward with his life. 

It’s a miserable cycle of waking up, carrying on with _their_ routine, and being depressed over the fact that the other half isn’t there anymore. 

Sometimes, he’ll think he has it all together and that he’s ready to move on and leave the past in the past, but then he remembers how a single touch would have electricity flowing through his body and how it made him light up from the inside out, and then the longing returns and he’s dropped right back to square one: mourning. 

“Why you…” Sehun mutters, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms tight around his legs. Glancing over, his eyes catch on the small cooler. Inside are 12 beers. Usually, they would split them right down the middle, six for each of them, and that would be enough for them to be just tipsy enough without waking up to killer hangovers. But now there’s 12 beers and only person. No splitting them equally, all there for Sehun to greedily chug down until he promptly feels fit to black out. 

Sehun reaches over and plucks one of the bottles from the cooler, laughing bitterly as he twists the cap off. “I never could hold my alcohol as well as you. Don’t let me do anything stupid, yeah?” 

It’s ridiculous talking to someone who’s not there, he knows. He doesn’t care, though. 

One beer. Two beers. Three. Four. Five, six. Sehun’s halfway through the cooler when someone says, “Do you always do this?” 

The voice isn’t familiar, but it fills the void of silence for that Sehun is thankful. He was beginning to get too caught up in his thoughts anyway. 

“Do what?” Sehun responds, turning his head just enough to see the silhouette of a stranger standing just a few steps behind him. 

“Get drunk and talk to yourself.” 

“Maybe,” Sehun shrugs. 

The stranger plops down then, uninvited and unannounced, and Sehun feels a twinge of annoyance stir in his chest. God, doesn’t this person understand when someone is being a miserable fuck? 

“What are you doing anyway?” Another question from the stranger. 

“Moping,” Sehun waves his beer, smiling fakely and sweetly as he brings the bottle back to his lips. “Why are you spying on me?” Sehun asks a second later. 

This time, he finally does look at the stranger. The boy is beautiful to say the least. He’s the epitome of a total beach bum, with golden skin, tousled hair, dark, mysterious eyes, and a lean body hidden beneath the thin tank hanging loosely on his shoulders. His smile is warm, and Sehun suddenly feels bad for snapping at him. 

“Not spying. I spend a lot of time in the lifeguard tower and noticed you spend a lot of time out here,” the boy says. Sehun eyes him. 

“Are you the lifeguard?” 

“No, I just prefer not to have sand in my asscrack,” he snorts, and Sehun cracks the tiniest smile. “I’m Jongin, by the way.” 

“Sehun, misery at best.” 

“Nice to meet you, misery. You should smile more.” 

 

 

Jongin is different from Luhan in a lot of ways. Where Luhan was a loose canon, reckless and wild, Jongin is calm and level-headed. They’re also similar in a lot of ways, too. Both of them are like a breath of fresh air filling Sehun’s lungs, and each of them leaves a different kind of taste on Sehun’s tongue. 

Luhan was a taste of danger and everything Sehun should’ve avoided while Jongin was a taste of serenity and comfort. 

Some nights, Sehun is tempted to kiss Jongin silly as they sit on the beach and talk about everything and nothing. Other nights, he so desperately wishes that it were Luhan filling the space next to him. 

 

 

“Who was it?” 

“Hmm?” 

“The person you’re mourning over.” 

“My boyfriend. Luhan.” 

It’s been _so_ long since Sehun has said his name out loud, and it stings all the way into his chest. The breeze blows through his hair and he shifts closer to Jongin. Jongin stays silent for a few passing moments, and Sehun kind of hopes that he leaves it at that because talking about Luhan isn’t something he’s ready for. He doesn’t want to talk about Luhan or his death, doesn’t want to remember the funeral, doesn’t want to have to openly admit that Luhan is _dead_. 

“I’m sorry,” Jongin finally says. He blindly reaches over and tangles his fingers in Sehun’s, a simple gesture that is just enough to anchor Sehun for the moment. 

“I miss him so much,” Sehun croaks, and it’s the first time he’s letting himself crumble in front of Jongin. Jongin is quick to press closer to Sehun’s side, quick to hold his hand tighter, but Sehun is no longer anchored. He’s a mess within minutes and the image of Luhan cradling his head in his lap is all too vivid. 

Whenever Sehun was upset over whatever, normal life bullshit and whatnot, Luhan would have Sehun lay in his lap and he’d distract him with stories about his life in China, how he used to get into fights and embarrass himself in front of every crush he ever had until Sehun would laugh. Sehun would lay there and listen to Luhan’s smooth Korean, his accent catching on some of the words here and there, and that’s how he would fall asleep most nights.

Now, Jongin’s voice carries through his muffled sobs, shushing him and telling him it’s okay, except it’s not okay. 

Nothing is okay. 

(Though, Jongin might make it a _little_ okay.) 

 

 

Jongin somehow eases right into Sehun’s life, fills the slot with his beaming smile and his stupid jokes that absolutely no one but him would find funny. Sehun doesn’t try to stop it, mostly because he doesn’t know when Jongin became a permanent fixture, and he sometimes thinks that Jongin was supposed to stride right into his life and help him collect the pieces of himself that had chipped away with Luhan’s passing. 

Lately, he’s been finding that he smiles more. It’s not much, but it’s surely a start. Or maybe Jongin is just too lame for Sehun to handle. Either way, whenever Jongin jokes, Sehun laughs, falling against Jongin’s side as they watch the water ripple as the tide rolls in. 

“I’ve noticed something, Sehun,” Jongin says, hands locked together behind his head to keep his hair from directly touching the sand. 

“What’s that?” 

“You smile more now,” the older boy states. “It makes me happy.” 

Something tugs in Sehun’s chest. Not the sad, painful tug he’s used to, but a tug that seems to be something akin to joy? This certain feeling reminds him of the first time Luhan had kissed him and left him feeling warm in the face and weak in the knees. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but he decides not to question it as Jongin smiles over at him. 

 

 

Sehun still talks to Luhan at night before he sleeps. He reminds Luhan that he made him the happiest person for the two years they were together, tells him he loves him and he misses him, and he’s positive that this a routine that will never change. 

The thought that Luhan can hear him from wherever he may be gives Sehun a sense of comfort because he _needs_ Luhan to know these things. He doesn’t want him to forget even if he’s not physically here anymore. 

Tonight, however, Sehun tells him about Jongin. 

“I think you would like him, Lu. He’s not as crazy as we were, which is good for me I think. He keeps my head in the right place,” he whispers into the darkness of his room. 

His windows are open and the view of the ocean from his bed is incredible with the moon spilling a silver cast over the water. The air is salty and cool, leaving Sehun to wish Jongin was laying next to him. “I really like him…” Sehun quietly admits. “That’s okay, right?” 

He doesn’t get a reply, but something tells him that Luhan would approve. 

 

 

The next night, Sehun and Jongin are sitting in the sand again, toes buried in the fine grains and opened beers sitting at their sides. Jongin seems off, keeping his distance and avoiding contact each time Sehun moves closer. Sehun puts it off for a while, but soon he finds himself blurting out, “Did I do something wrong?” 

Jongin shakes his head, continues looking out at the ocean. “No,” he says, “it has nothing to do with you.” 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Sehun asks, as if prompting Jongin. 

“I’m okay.” 

This is the first lie Jongin has ever told Sehun.

Not wanting to press on the subject, Sehun mumbles, “You don’t have to lie. You can talk to me if you want to. If not, that’s cool too.” 

So they sit in silence. The minutes tick by, punctuated with a sudden cough or the sound of distant music somewhere far down the beach, and it feels like there’s something brewing, expanding and expanding until it is ready to explode. Jongin grows ansty and begins knocking his knees together, lips pressed in a tight line as if he wants to stop himself from saying anything at all. 

Finally, a sigh of frustration leaves him and Sehun can only stare over. 

“I like you, Sehun. A lot.” 

Everything is at a standstill. Seconds of silence pass and Jongin continues knocking his knees together while Sehun mulls over Jongin’s confession, lets it simmer for a bit before he’s able to form a coherent thought. Even still, he’s not able to form a sentence. He’s completely inarticulate, and he can sense Jongin’s growing frustration. 

“Forget I said,” Jongin says hurriedly, standing up to brush the dust from his shorts. “Let’s forget about this and go back to normal tomorrow, okay?” 

Sehun still doesn’t speak. On one hand, he isn’t sure if how he is feeling is okay. There’s an underlying pang of guilt there, because he is still very much in love with Luhan, but on the other hand, he feels as if Jongin has just directly injected butterflies into his veins and now they’re trying to clog up his throat. Maybe that’s why he’s finding it so hard to speak. 

The only thing he manages to do is grab for Jongin’s wrist, a gesture that says “ _please stay_.” Jongin stops in his tracks and Sehun gets to his feet. His heart is thudding against his ribcage and his mouth is suddenly so dry that he could spit cotton if he wanted. 

“No, don’t… go. Jongin, I—” 

“It’s fine, we don’t have to talk about it,” he shakes his head. “You’re not over Luhan, and I’m sick of feeling like I’m competing with him.” The _when he’s not even here_ goes unspoken, but Sehun knows it’s there. 

Sehun could get angry, but he doesn’t. Instead, he feels like he’s been slapped with a huge realization. He had been so caught up in getting over Luhan that he failed to realize Jongin’s feelings, and that makes him feel sick to his stomach. 

“Jongin, wait. Hear me out,” Sehun begs quietly, fingers still locked tight around Jongin’s wrist. “I like you, too. I like you so much, and I’m sorry that I’ve been too caught up in myself to realize that.” He pauses to take in a slow, stuttering breath. “The truth is, I owe you a lot, you know? If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t be able to think about my times with Luhan and smile, I would’ve still been longing for that time to be in my grasp again. Now… now I’m starting to come to terms with the fact that they were a part of my life and I should be grateful that I got to enjoy them.” 

“And you, Jongin. You make me happy. I don’t know how you did it, but you somehow picked up the pieces I kept missing and just…” Sehun isn’t sure where he’s going with this, but he supposes that doesn’t matter when Jongin is in his space, closing in and holding Sehun’s face in his hands. 

“Sehun,” Jongin breathes. It goes quiet as Jongin presses his forehead against Sehun’s, eyes sliding shut for a moment. “Can I—can I kiss you?” 

Sehun swallows thickly, nodding. “Please.” 

Jongin’s hand finds Sehun’s nape when their lips meet in a soft, timid press. It’s experimental, different. Jongin’s lips taste like salt and his strawberry chapstick, which makes for an oddly good combination, and his kisses are shy yet experienced. Sehun can feel his heart racing again, thudding rapidly against his chest and he really hopes Jongin can’t feel it as he presses closer. 

Melting into the kiss is easy after they’re over the initial shyness. Jongin kisses Sehun like he’s trying to express what he feels all in that one action, tongue swiping gently over Sehun’s lower lip and his thumbs stroking at the juts of sharp cheekbones while Sehun kisses Jongin like he’s a lifeline, fingers curled up in Jongin’s shirt and his cheeks flushing as he falls pliant to Jongin’s lips. 

“Jongin, can we—” Sehun breathes, hoping that Jongin gets the hint. 

Jongin is still kissing at Sehun’s mouth, pecking and dragging his lips over to Sehun’s jaw, “Yeah. My place.” 

Jongin lives right on the beach not even 15 minutes from where their spot, and his parents are never home apparently. Any other time, Sehun would sympathize with Jongin, but right now he’s quite thankful. 

 

 

Jongin is a natural in bed, Sehun comes to find out. He moves languidly and precisely, back muscles shifting under Sehun’s hands as Sehun falls apart underneath the tanned boy. Jongin stays close, doesn’t stray too far even when they switch positions and Sehun ends up riding him, body bent forward with his face buried in Jongin’s neck. 

Jongin mumbles something against Sehun’s skin at the most random times, and Sehun responds by kissing him until their lungs start to burn. There is no over exaggerated moans, no string of curses, no anything that would make Sehun feel as though he were in some cheap porn production. There’s only muted moans and hushed confessions, and Sehun can feel himself growing more emotional as time passes. 

It’s all slow paced and every kiss placed here or there means something, and each touch is enough to have their whole bodies breaking out with goosebumps. It’s an overwhelming thing, and there’s so much that Sehun could say even as Jongin reaches between them and strokes him to completion, his own hips twitching with the force of his orgasm as he fills the condom.

Neither of them speak after. Sehun doesn’t really think they need to because they already know what the other is thinking and that is a discussion they can save for tomorrow. 

Sehun falls asleep with Jongin pressed against his back, and the heavy weight that he carried around for so long finally lifting from his chest. 

 

 

Sehun no longer longs to be in the past. He now wakes up with Jongin by his side and he longs for the present, for their future, and he thinks Luhan would be happy to hear that.


End file.
